


No Longer Human

by dicklomatticimmunity



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Biting, Blood, Bondage, Incest, Knifeplay, M/M, Possession, Rape, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-13
Updated: 2013-03-15
Packaged: 2017-12-05 04:19:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/718815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dicklomatticimmunity/pseuds/dicklomatticimmunity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean fails to change the course of the future. In 2014, Dean has to surrender to the inevitable.</p>
<p>NOTE: This is Lucifer!Sam/Dean. I couldn't find a tag for it, so I used more than one pairing tag.</p>
<p>Published to LJ on April 02, 2012</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [No Longer Human](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1456096) by [alucard1771](https://archiveofourown.org/users/alucard1771/pseuds/alucard1771)



Dean feels the thorny branches of the surrounding rose bushes sink into his skin, but he doesn’t feel pain. He can’t feel pain anymore, not when Sam — no, _Lucifer_ , his brother is long gone — is looking straight at him, kneeling in front of him.

Lucifer caresses his cheeks, presses thumbs against his skin.

“All mine,” Lucifer whispers, and when Lucifer leans in, Dean turns his head. He doesn’t care if his resistance will kill him; he is already dead.

Lucifer frowns. “Dean. Let me thank you for letting me live.”

“That’s not necessary,” Dean says around the lump in his throat. If he had anything in his stomach, he’s sure it would have come up by now. All that’s left for him now is Lucifer, the archangel who’s using his brother as a meatsuit.

He knew, five years ago, that this would happen. He told himself he was going to change the course of events, prevent this from happening, and yet here he is, in 2014, Lucifer wearing his brother, attempting to seduce him, of all things.

_We will always end up here._

He has no fight left in him. He failed on a massive scale. 

It’s time for him to pay, and he’s just going to have to accept whatever form his debt comes in. 

Something warm presses against his cheek, and it snaps him back to the present. Lucifer kisses his neck, and Dean shudders, but he doesn’t fight. He lets Lucifer’s hands explore his body, touching him wherever the rose branches don’t. Blood drips from the puncture wounds, but he barely registers it, his mind blank to every thought except _you failed_.

Lucifer looks at him, and he lifts his gaze to meet Lucifer’s eyes. He doesn’t know what he sees there, but he knows what he doesn’t see; wherever Sam is, it isn’t in those eyes, so cold and neutral that it’s impossible to discern anything from them.

Lucifer’s fingertips stroke over his cheek, then push upwards, around his eye and to his forehead. 

“You look tired, Dean,” Lucifer says quietly. “Sleep well.”

He passes out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Dean groans groggily. He shifts in an attempt to get comfortable and go back to sleep.

That’s when he realizes there is something binding his wrists together behind his back. He frowns and shifts again, rolling onto his left side so he can sit upright.

That’s when he notices Lucifer, sitting on a wooden crate about twenty feet away, sharpening a knife.

“What the hell is going on here,” he asks, his tone rough, worried. 

“Oh.” Lucifer looks up from his work, eyes taking Dean in. “You’re awake.”

Dean feels uneasy. Lucifer is naked, a knife in one hand, a sharpening stone in another. 

For that matter, he’s naked too.

Lucifer continues to sharpen the knife, the _screeeeeeeee_ of metal against stone resonating in the otherwise quiet room.

Dean looks around him, surveying his surroundings. They must be on one of the upper floors of the asylum, because he can see the flat rooftop through a broken window on the far side. The room he’s in must have been some sort of recreation room; it's littered with flipped chairs, overturned tables, and books, piles of books, strewn about the room.

It doesn’t explain why the bed he’s on is in this room, though. He sits up, and that’s when he realizes the full weight of his wrist restraints. They’re heavy, and they must be made of some kind of metal because they’re cold against his skin.

Lucifer looks over at him. He stops sharpening the knife.

“I’ll ask again,” Dean says. “What is going on here.”

Lucifer smiles, tilts his head. “Dean, what does it look like I’m doing?”

Dean bites his lip. His anger is rising, but it dissipates quickly when Lucifer puts the sharpening stone down. The hairs on the back of his neck stand on end as fear creeps through him.

“Of course, I could take a break, if you want to play.” Lucifer gets up, still holding the knife, and walks over to the bed. 

“No,” Dean says quietly. He scoots away from the edge of the bed, pressing himself against the wall as Lucifer approaches.

Surprisingly, Lucifer stops. Lucifer looks down at the knife in his hand.

“You’re right,” Lucifer says. “I don’t need this.” He shrugs and drops the knife. It falls to the floor with a loud clatter, and then Lucifer continues towards Dean.

Dean looks around him, trying to find an escape route, but it’s too late; Lucifer kneels on the bed and closes the distance between them. Lucifer’s arms wrap around him, pull him close, and he closes his eyes as Lucifer spreads his fingertips, grips his back. A wave of nausea hits him, but either his stomach has checked out or his brain has ceased to acknowledge its existence, because the only result is that he suddenly feels light-headed.

“So beautiful,” Lucifer whispers, hands roaming over Dean’s back. He touches Dean’s arms, and as he does so, the scabbed-over wounds from the rose’s thorny branches heal, vanishing completely. “Let’s make you more comfortable.”

Dean opens his mouth to say something, but Lucifer’s fingertips press against his forehead. His world goes dark as he sinks into Lucifer's arms.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Dean comes to, he finds himself spread over the bed, wrists and ankles secured to the bedposts, lying on his chest. Lucifer is kissing his shoulder, body molded over his, radiating heat like a furnace in the depths of winter.

Dean looks down at his wrists, and finds that the restraints are the same manacles he had on earlier. They’re heavy, and when he tugs against them, he finds that the chains are longer, giving him more freedom than he would have thought. There’s no way he’d be able to cut through them or remove them in any way, though, without resorting to measures he would rather not think about.

Then again, he _is_ trapped with Lucifer. What could be worse?

“You’re awake,” Lucifer says. He smiles against Dean’s skin. “I hope you’re ready.”

Dean turns his head, about to tell Lucifer to just kill him already, when Lucifer sits up. He picks up the knife he’d discarded earlier, and Dean watches with horror — and relief, because maybe the son of a bitch will kill him — as Lucifer drags the blade down his side.

“I’m not going to kill you.” Lucifer smiles. “I’m going to make you my bitch, and if that means I have to torture you to achieve that end, I will.” 

Dean watches the knife intently until it disappears from view. A wave of panic hits him, because if Lucifer is going to carve him from the inside out, he'll just surrender now, because he does _not_ want Sam watching that —

A second later, he feels it against the sole of his foot.

“I’m going to fuck you, Dean,” Lucifer continues. “I’m going to strip you of everything you have, and your dear Sammy is going to watch you fall.”

The knife presses into his skin, and he grits his teeth, holding back a hiss. He can feel blood spilling from the cut, which hurts like hell, a sting so sharp that he's sure he's not going to be able to walk on it.

“If you resist, I will cut off every toe, every finger, one by one.” Lucifer drags the non-cutting edge of the knife against the undersides of Dean’s toes. “I will cut off everything until only your most vital parts are left. It won’t be pleasant for Sam, or for you… but you don’t care. He does.”

_Sammy._ No matter what Dean does, he can’t win. Either Sam watches him get raped, or Sam watches him get tortured, then raped.

He realizes that Sam is the only reason Lucifer is keeping him around. Lucifer is getting off on playing them like this. It’s why Lucifer hasn’t killed him yet; without him, Sam is nothing but a soul trapped in a vessel he can’t control. 

As for him… without Sam, he has no reason to live. It’s why he wasn’t able to kill Lucifer; he couldn’t kill his brother. 

“So, which will it be,” Lucifer says, cutting into his thoughts. “Are you going to get onto all fours and play nice, or will I have to carve you until there’s nothing left?”

_Sam._

_Sammy._

Dean thought he was beyond shedding tears. As he brings himself onto all fours, though, moisture collects in the corners of his eyes.

“So beautiful,” Lucifer whispers into his ear. The knife clatters to the floor again, and Dean closes his eyes. He tugs against his restraints, though he knows he will never escape. He bites down on a sob as Lucifer kisses down his spine, half-expecting Lucifer to take him dry. Instead, something warm and wet presses against his opening, and he realizes that Lucifer is…

“Fuck,” Dean groans as Lucifer’s tongue sweeps over the tight muscle, then pushes inside.


	2. Chapter 2

Dean should have known that Lucifer would never give him the luxury of getting this over with quickly. No, Lucifer intends on dragging this out as long as possible.

 _Sammy._ He can only hope that Sam checked out, long ago, before any of this even became a thought to Lucifer.

Dean can’t help but squirm slightly as Lucifer tongue–fucks him. He closes his eyes, hoping to focus on something else, but Lucifer’s hands grab his hips, holding him in place, and he can’t squirm away anymore and closing his eyes is only making him more sensitive to Lucifer’s touch.

“So tight,” Lucifer says, withdrawing his tongue to lick between Dean’s asscheeks. “Am I your first?”

Dean decides to not dignify the question with an answer.

When Lucifer’s hand leaves his hip, though, he turns his head, realizes Lucifer is going for the knife, and changes his mind.

“Yes,” Dean says quietly, voice choked with silent tears.

“Mmm,” Lucifer hums. He drags his tongue over Dean’s opening again. “Have you ever thought about your brother’s cock?”

Dean grits his teeth as Lucifer’s tongue slides inside him again. He doesn’t want to answer, especially if Sam has a front row seat to all of this. Now is a hell of a time for Sam to know the truth.

He’s certain that’s what Lucifer’s goal is. Get him to make confessions, say things he never told Sam, just to break Sam’s heart more than it already has been. No, he refuses to do that.

“I think you have,” Lucifer says as he licks over his ring of muscle.

Dean is about to retort, but Lucifer’s long fingers wrap around his cock. He isn’t surprised to find that he’s completely flaccid, but a sense of dread sinks into his stomach as Lucifer starts to pump him, slowly.

Lucifer doesn’t actually think he’s going to get _hard_ , does he?

“Am I right?” Lucifer asks, before thrusting his tongue inside Dean again. Dean hisses at the sudden invasion, but he tries to relax, knowing this will all be over with sooner if he just focuses on _taking it_.

“No,” Dean lies, even as he can feel his body responding to Lucifer’s touch. He wants to be sick, wants to black out again because blood is rushing to all the wrong places, and there isn’t a damn thing he can do about it. He tries to think of things decidedly not sexy – dead, mangled bodies, the Cupid that made his parents fall in love, some of the stews he’s had to cook up that smelled like acid – but despite his best efforts, all of his thoughts lead right back to _Sam_.

 _Sam_. He used to think about his brother, stretched out and naked, lying on a bed, and all he wanted to do was make love to Sam, slow, passionate love, riding Sam’s thick cock until both of them came, maybe followed by some sort of manly version of pillow talk.

He hasn’t had such thoughts in almost five years. After Sam said yes to Lucifer, those thoughts turned to acid because they always ended with _you let him go, and look what he’s become_.

A quick tug snaps him out of his thoughts. Dean grunts, cock throbbing appreciatively in Lucifer’s hand. Dean curses, tries to focus again, but fantasies of what he would do to Sam in bed are bubbling to the surface, and Dean feels helpless to stop them, especially now that he’s going to get to know what it feels like to have Sam’s cock inside him, albeit in a completely twisted and unwanted way. He finds himself thrusting against Lucifer’s hand, body thrumming with forced desire, and he knows this is exactly what Lucifer wants, but he can't stop it.

It isn’t long before Lucifer’s tongue withdraws from him. A trail of saliva drips down to his balls, and he realizes he is shaking, hands and toes curled into the flimsy white sheets. He hangs his head, hopes that Lucifer will just fuck him, but no, Lucifer isn’t quite done yet. Lucifer’s body slides against his, the devil’s chest against his back.

“You lied,” Lucifer says, quietly, before biting Dean’s shoulder.

Dean’s whole body jerks, and he has to bite his lip to hold back a cry as pain shoots through him.

“So?” he asks, though he isn’t sure he wants to know the answer. His brain is a confused mess, torn between memories of Sam and what is happening, right now, with Lucifer. He’s trying to resist, trying to catch his body’s subconscious movements before they happen, but his entire body is engulfed in a heat he can’t escape.

Lucifer pushes inside, and Dean screams. He bows his head, buries his face in the sheets, as Lucifer fucks into him, fingers splayed on his shoulders. His arms give beneath him, and he lets himself sink into the bed. He doesn’t even have the benefit of pain; the initial burn dissolves quickly, turning into scorching pleasure, and no matter how sick this makes him, his body wants it, has wanted it for five years. Lucifer's – _Sam's_ , oh fuck, it really is Sam's – cock is thick inside him, and he can't help but clench around it, wanting it to fill every inch of him.

Even with Lucifer continuing to stroke him, Lucifer comes first. Dean shudders, as though a great ordeal is over – there’s no way Lucifer would care enough about him to finish him off – but then he gets proven wrong, again.

Lucifer slows his strokes and leans down, presses his lips to Dean’s ear.

“Sam says, hi, by the way,” he whispers. “Says he forgives you. Doesn’t want you to die on him.”

Dean lets out a muted cry as Lucifer’s thumb swipes over the fold of skin on the underside of his cock. He comes, white slick spilling onto the sheets beneath him. Heat floods his cheek as he collapses, ashamed that he came to those words.

The bed shifts behind him, and he doesn’t even bother to watch Lucifer go as Lucifer’s weight leaves the bed.

The sudden pain across the back of his shoulder makes him cry out in agony. He can feel blood trickle down his back, the wound burning with every drop that falls.

Son of a bitch must have picked up the knife.

“I have to go for a little bit,” Lucifer says. “But don’t worry, Dean. I’ll be back.”

As soon as Lucifer’s presence is gone, Dean breaks down. He cries, shedding his pain as he lies there, bleeding, violated, the smell of Lucifer lingering on his skin.

_Sam._

_I’m sorry, Sam._

_I’m so sorry._

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Lucifer stops in front of a mirror in the hallway. He smiles, but even as he does so, his expression turns to one of incalculable pain.

“How could you?!” Sam shouts at him, face red, wet with tears. “Why?! Why didn’t you just kill him?”

“Because it’s fun watching you squirm, Sam,” Lucifer says, smirking broadly.

“You’re joking,” Sam says, trying to compose himself. “We’re just humans to you. We’re nothing.”

“Oh, Sam,” Lucifer sighs. “You aren’t mere humans, Sam. You know that.”

“Let my brother go,” Sam demands, voice low, desperate.

Lucifer ponders this.

“No,” he says, after little thought. “Not until one of you breaks, for good. And since that won’t happen so long as one of you lives, it will never happen.” He smiles. “I win.”

“No.” Sam refuses to believe Lucifer. “No. You’re not going to keep doing that to Dean. I won’t let it happen.”

“What are you going to do, Sam?” Lucifer taunts. “I’m in your grapefruit.” He taps the side of his head for emphasis. “You let me in."

Sam wants to argue, but he can’t. He looks away, as though looking into the abyss will help him find an answer.

“I will stop you,” he says, turning back to Lucifer. “I will find a way.”

Lucifer smiles. “We’ll see about that.” He looks into the mirror, and his reflection resolves, showing his broad smirk.

He continues down the hallway. He has humans to smite.


End file.
